Ghent, Belgium
My lasting memory of Ghent will be of beautiful buildings rising up from manicured streets. Almost every corner you turned, you'd be greeted by a long line of coloured bricks highlighted with white windowsills and trees popping up between.
Like Bruges, horse and cart rides clattered by in a waft of manure, the passengers hanging out and jabbing their cameras towards points of interest. The drivers looked a mixed bunch: some were animated and chatty, while some were silent and dour. An infinitely more pleasant odour was the scent of waffles that hung over every main street - not just in Ghent but in all Belgium! They sure do love their waffles.
Bikes prevailed everywhere in Belgium, with tourists and locals alike cycling alongside the canals.
Every chocolatier's window held shining heaps of Ghent noses. We asked a vendor in the square why they were called noses, and he told us the story. In 1873, a pharmacist threw out what he considered a failed batch of medicinal syrup. A few days later he noticed that a crust had formed on the top while the inside remained gooey. His son enjoyed the taste, so he opened up a shop selling the sweets in the shape of a cone. Children would hold them up to their face and pretend they were their own purple noses, hence the name. Aparently just recently the sweet has become popular globally, with a special cola flavoured nose marketed for the U.S. The vendor said that a trip to Ghent would not be complete without tasting a nose, and gave us one for free. He demonstrated how to determine if the nose is fresh by gently pinching the middle to see if it gives way, thereby showing that the inside is still liquid. I wanted to like it, but upon tasting, it reminded me of a jelly bean. I was not enamoured.
In the same square, we heard a marvellous band strike up, complete with banjo and a piano on wheels. The mystery was all the sand on the ground, as we were nowhere near the seaside.
An attraction we had anticipated was the graffiti street, where vandals are encouraged to tag and mural, presumably to keep other streets unscathed. Upon arriving, however, the walls had been bluewashed and only a hint of what was remained. I'm not sure why I found it amusing, as I was disappointed that it had been censored. Perhaps I knew that it was too good to be true in Belgium. How does it work so well in Melbourne?
Retiring from the rain, we entered an old bar for refreshments and a people-watching view from the ivy-ringed windows. Above us were wooden beams that looked like they could have been crafted by a medieval peasant, and beside us bricks crumbled away from the stones behind. The building itself dates back to the late twelfth century and was once the city's grain store.
Boat!
We explored the ruins of an old abbey. Sprouting purple and yellow flowers from every surface, the abbey was looked down upon by a more modern abbey (1720).
After resting for a time, we wandered the grounds which were dappled with cherry, apple and pear trees.
Camping that evening was a mission to find as all four roads at a crossroads had the street name we were looking for. Once found, we didn't actually know if we had come to the correct place, but luckily a mute man showed us how tall his trees had grown and led us to someone in charge. She led us to where our tents would be pitched, and it was a lovely grassy area with a woodshed and rusted wagon wheels. Informing us that the facility was in institution, she requested we not leave money or cigarettes lying in the open. While I was initially a little put off, every interaction we had with the people there was positive, and they were all very friendly (leading us to the proper car park, asking how our stay was, giving us the thumbs up). To date it is the best campsite I have stayed at for the price, facilities (including free wifi everywhere - even in our tents), and privacy. We were the only campers there! We stayed there two nights we liked it so much.
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